Take, within one hand, the bone of your being. Halve the marrow and cast aside the sinew, because that’s not needed. Take, within the other, the blood of your being. All the red, none of the white.
Let’s get there. First. Unzip the holding on your front, remove the head and the brain from your soul, undo the strings holding your ribs inside. Let it all fall, roll and spill out. We’ll make beautiful art out of this, I swear it to you.
Your sternum, it’s smaller than you might imagine. So break it between four fingers, throw it around yourself, your skinless self as confetti. Throw it and let it clatter as you breathe out your last. Because it’s your lungs next.
What is oxygen to you but filtered mess to keep you living. Living is over-exaggerated, filled with First Times and Last Times, the First Words, the Last Words, the First Clothes, the Last Clothes. You were born into this world naked, and you’ll go out skinless.
With your ribs gone, your heart and lungs are supported only by the invisibly weak flesh around. Below, stomach. You don’t need this. You need your bones and your blood. All else is trivial.
See the one thing you wanted just behind you. The bone. Remove your right arm, reach into it and remove the bones. All twenty-seven of the hand and wrist. Small fragments will do. The others you can forget. Here we go.
You do the same with your other arm. Then your ankles and feet. Everything’s coming together.
Sweep your blood together. Sweep it together and–
Your breathless self, as gorgeous as all this might be, needs to dance now. With one translucent hand holding cracked bones, the other slick and flowing with your blood. Leave your empty and crumpled suit of a body and let your tall and sweeping form pirouette, sighing as you revolve in place. Bring your arms up, then down slowly. Form the essence of you around yourself.
I am breathless. I am heavenly. I am bliss. Offering, ritual or example, all maybe. But yes. I accept your bone. I accept your blood. It’s all I need. Organs melt and die, skin creases, hair greys. I need none. I am fine with bone and blood.
Turn yourself around, your invisible soul-self. Greet me with a warm smile. Like you’ve seen me before. And tell me, with your not-tongue: